


let go, lay to rest

by imadetheline



Series: Breathe In, Breathe Out [19]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FebuWhump2021, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Sibling Bonding, Sleep Deprivation, Sunshine Luke Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:54:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29591727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imadetheline/pseuds/imadetheline
Summary: febuwhump day nineteen - sleep deprivation
Relationships: Leia Organa & Luke Skywalker
Series: Breathe In, Breathe Out [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2140389
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	let go, lay to rest

**Author's Note:**

> title from six weeks by of monsters and men
> 
> not sure if this really counts as sleep deprivation but I've had it written for like a week and I'm using it

Leia’s reasonably sure she’s been staring at this same report for the past twenty minutes without absorbing anything, which is unfortunate because it’s about the state of their fighters and inventory of weaponry. And that just so happens to be important when trying to run a rebellion against an oppressive regime. She needs to read this and decide if they need to do another supply run soon and also come up with suggestions for places to get said supplies before the meeting with high command tomorrow morning.

She lets out an aggravated sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to stem the oncoming headache she can feel beginning to pulse behind her eyes. Force, how long has it been since she last slept? She can’t quite remember. It’s never high on her list of priorities. There’s always something to be done, one more thing to plan, one more person to listen to. Though listening isn’t really her strong suit. 

She reaches for her cup of caf sitting cold and half-empty on the desk beside her and recalls a humorous example of that from a few months ago. A young engineer had tried to talk to her about the new upgrades to the x-wings, and Leia can give inspiring speeches almost in her sleep but listening to someone talk about something she cannot find the energy to care about: well, that drives her insane. 

Leia knows she’s supposed to be composed and there for the people of the Rebellion, but it probably hadn’t helped that she’d only had about five hours of sleep in the two days prior while the young woman tried to hold a conversation with her, or that she’d been on her fourth cup of caf. She’d been about to snap something she would have regretted later, but luckily, Luke had entered the hangar and made his way directly to her. Leia often wonders if whatever powers he has allow him to sense whenever her patience is running out. Because he’d swiftly interjected with some information about a report in her quarters she’d needed to read immediately, allowing her to escape. (The ‘report’ had turned out to be a handwritten note from him telling her to get some sleep.)

But as Leia walked away, she saw him replace her in the conversation, nodding thoughtfully along with the engineer’s excited remarks and interrupting with relevant questions about the subject that only made the woman more excited. And he’d smiled and listened and seemed happy to do so. She doesn’t know where he finds the patience.

But Luke is the best listener she knows. He likes talking about ships, but she’s certain that even if the engineer had been talking about something he found exceedingly boring, he would still have paid attention and made her feel as though what she was saying was important. There’s something about him--perhaps his easy demeanor, his quick smiles, his innocent face--that makes him easy to talk to, easy to open up to. And he’s quick to shoulder that burden because Leia’s almost certain he doesn’t see it as one. 

He hears, yes, but more than that, he truly  _ listens.  _ He greets almost everyone he passes in the halls, knows all the pilots’ names, not just the ones in Rogue Squadron, makes sure Leia’s sleeping and people are looked out for.

Luke had taken the Rogues on a supply mission last month, and she’d seen him bring back a small part to that same engineer with just a shrug and a smile, “You said you couldn’t find one,” and that was it. No thought of reward or praise. He’d listened while she talked and had sought to help her.

So yes, Leia may be able to talk and inspire. But Luke’s gift is so much subtler; he listens and lets people drop their guard, helps them feel the emotions that war so often has people bottling up. He learns and tucks information away, and he makes everyone feel important. In fact, Leia has never met anyone who doesn’t like Luke, or as Han affectionately calls him ‘the sunshine kid.” And Leia would never tell the smuggler this, but she thinks the nickname is very apt.

She probably would have collapsed a million times over these past few years if not for Luke, and she’s so grateful for his presence here, brightening up her life and so many others.

And it’s as if her thoughts had summoned him. The door to her quarters hisses open, and there he is, his familiar smile on his face as he steps inside. “Force, Leia, you look like hell,” he says as way of a greeting, grinning.

She glares at him, turning back to the report she’s supposed to be reading and bringing her cup of caf to her lips. It’s cold against her tongue, a fact she’d forgotten, and she splutters. Luke laughs brightly and snatches the mug from her cold hands, and no matter how highly she had just been thinking of him, she wants to punch him for being so cheerful when she feels like keeling over. “Luke…” she warns. She needs that if she’s going to finish this report, no matter how bad it tastes.

“I don’t think so, Leia. You need rest.” He’s already dimming the lights and setting the caf aside, still smiling but now softer.

Leia just groans and rubs her hands across her face, “I can’t. I need to finish this for the meeting tomorrow.” She can see him opening his mouth to argue, but she cuts him off with a sigh, “Why are you here anyway?”

His smile brightens again slightly, and she has to re-cover her eyes with her hands to stop his happiness from effectively blinding her, “Han sent me to check on you.”

She actually snorts at that, lifting her head from her hands to send him an unimpressed glance. Every time he stops by her room, he has a different excuse, and that is by far his weakest. And she tells him so, “Maybe you’re the one that’s tired if that’s all you can come up with.”

He grins sheepishly and rubs at the back of his neck. “I came to deliver a very important message?” he tries.

She rolls her eyes, “Try again, farmboy.” Yet another nickname she’s picked up from Han, and it makes Luke groan every time without fail. That’s the main reason she uses it.

“I was worried about you?” He says finally, adding a questioning lilt to his voice as if they both don’t know that’s the real reason that he eventually relents and gives every time he checks on her.

“There it is,” she smiles triumphantly, and Luke rolls his eyes. 

He comes around to stand at her side, peering over her shoulder at the report still sitting on her desk. She’d half hoped it had disappeared—no such luck.

“Well, I think it’s a fair concern seeing as you look like you’re going to fall out of your chair at any moment,” he remarks, not meeting the glare she turns on him.

“I see the mother henning is going well then,” she scoffs, elbowing him in the side.

He dramatically stumbles away from her, clutching at his stomach where she’d hit him. Force, she’s forgotten how annoying he can be. But then he’s grinning knowingly, and she knows what he's going to say before he even speaks, “I’m not the one who forced Han into the mess hall two days ago because he quote ‘looked like a starved loth cat.’”

Her cheeks flush pink, and she knows he can tell even in the dim lighting—kriff him.

Luke’s mischievous smile dims into something softer, understanding, “You know the only reason Han doesn’t actually ask me to check on you is that he’s afraid you’d murder him for even remotely implying that you’re not fine.”

And that thought does actually spark warmth in her chest that maybe Han’s devil-may-care act is just that: an act, and perhaps he does care. And somehow, Luke had known exactly what she’d needed to hear. But she has a reputation to uphold, so she just mumbles under her breath, “Seems the better option would be to murder you since you’re the one who keeps bothering me.” Then she quickly and forcefully adds, “And I  _ am _ fine.”

Luke snorts, “I’m flattered,” and then he’s moving back to his place beside her, a hand coming to rest lightly on her shoulder. He radiates warmth through her shirt, and she leans into him, resting her head on his stomach. His voice is softer now, “It’s okay not to be fine, Leia.” She opens her mouth to protest that she knows that, but she truly is fine, but she lifts her chin to meet his gaze only to find he’s not looking at her. And for the first time since he entered her room, his smile has faltered. So she just waits, looking up at those clear blue eyes that are somewhere else entirely right now. 

“None of us are really fine anyway.” He whispers into the silence and looks down at her then, an arm wrapped around her shoulders as she leans against him, and it’s a shared moment of the pain of war and loss they both carry tucked away within them.

And then an alarm she’d set for herself on her chrono in case she dozed off beeps loudly in the silence. She starts forward, slapping at it to get the infernal noise to stop, and Luke snorts. She glances back at him, and the smile is back, no more trace of the grief she knows he struggles with. 

“C’mon, just sleep for a few hours, Leia.” He gestures at the bed as if he’s already won the argument. And maybe he has; Leia can feel her eyes drooping, and her bed does look very warm and inviting. But she doesn’t concede to things without a fight, so she glances pointedly at the report still glaring up at her. Luke smiles softly, “Han and I can handle it.”

She snorts again, mumbling, “I wouldn’t trust Han to handle anything except getting us into trouble,” but she’s already stumbling from her chair towards the bed.

Luke huffs a laugh, catching her arm before she pitches forward, “Fair enough, but we  _ will _ take care of it, promise.” She nods, blinking, suddenly aware of how tired she really is and how much she’s been running on fumes these past few days.

The bed is soft beneath her as she sits heavily on the edge, already close to tipping over, but Luke taps her shoulder gently, and she sees him gesture to her plaits, “Do you want me to-”

She cuts him off with a yawn. And then, “Yes, please.”

And he reaches for her hair, slowly unbraiding it as she slips closer and closer to sleep with the soothing, repetitive motion. Leia doesn’t allow many people to touch her hair; the styles that her mother had taught her, the meanings and traditions they hold, are some of the only pieces of her home left to her. But she’d explained them in a night of grief to Luke, and he understands their importance. Besides, this isn’t the first time she’s let him undo them when she was too tired or they both just needed an excuse to talk. It’s familiar and calming, and when he’s done, she collapses onto the pillow, eyes already shut.

She doesn’t need to see Luke to sense his smile as he backs up from her bed, grabbing the report off her desk.

“Set an alarm for the meeting,” she mumbles to him. “Don’t let me miss it.”

His fondness is all too clear in his voice as he responds, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And then the door hisses open and closed behind him, leaving her in the arms of blissful darkness and welcome sleep.

<<<>>>

She wakes the next morning feeling more rested than she has in months but almost has a heart attack when she glances at her chrono and sees the meeting she was supposed to be at ended two hours ago. She’s going to kill Luke. 

But there’s a steaming cup of tea and a note scribbled in Luke’s messy handwriting on the bedside table:  _ Han and I took care of the report and relayed it to Command. Everyone agreed you needed the rest. I think they were afraid you were going to snap on one of them soon.  _ She can imagine their faces of relief, and her lips twitch up.  _ Oh, and the tea was Han’s idea. Don’t tell him I told you, though. He already thinks he’s gone too soft. _

Her smile widens, and she sits up, reaching for the tea. The cup is hot between her fingers, and she takes a small sip, savoring the warmth. It’s perfect. But the fact that Luke and Han had cared enough to look out for her like this reminds her she hasn’t lost her whole family, and they’re really all the warmth she needs.

Still, Leia wonders when Han learned how she likes her tea. The thought brings a smirk to her lips. Maybe she’ll let this one instance slide without teasing. Maybe.

**Author's Note:**

> If you guys liked it leave a comment. They make my day! Seriously I love reading them so please leave me one cause they motivate me to write more! if you guys have ideas for other stories send me an ask on tumblr [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/imadetheline) or just yell about stuff with me. Info about me and all my other tumblrs are [here](https://infoabtmaddie.carrd.co/#)


End file.
